


Drabble Me Collection 4

by Maybethings



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2018-01-14 15:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1272415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maybethings/pseuds/Maybethings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fourth collection of prompts based off the '[letter of the alphabet] Me' prompt challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. f!Brosca/Sten - kill me

"You knew eventually it would come to this."

Natia turns the dagger over and over in her hand, as if she had not heard him speak. ”I wish it didn’t have to, Sten,” she replies. But his skin is already more grey than brown, and while she cannot vouch for what he sees, he already looks half-blind with the Taint. She remembers Hespith. She will not allow that for him. The Warden inhales deeply, slowly, fingers curling around the hilt of her small and deadly weapon, then exhales with equal care. If she’s bringing him back to his people, let her bring a corpse still worthy of a name.

She hops up on the bed, presses herself into the warmth of his chest one last time—heat mingling with heat. “I knew a day like this would come. I suppose I chose not to see.” He looks at her, as if commiting something to memory. There is no pain in those eyes, no rancor. Only a deep trust. She wavers then, and she makes as if to let the blade fall from her treacherous hand. But she can no longer look away. She must not. Natia plants a kiss on his forehead, and if a tear leaves a mark where she does, he doesn’t complain.

“ _…Panahedan, kadan._ ”

“ _Atrast nal tunsha, salroka._ ”

She embraces him as she plunges the blade home. How well it cuts through his tough skin into the flesh, something marvels at the back of her head. One twist for good measure. Something breaks, something breaks in both of them, she feels him go limp in her arms—

—and Natia wakes up, cold sweat on her forehead and blood on her teeth.


	2. f!Mahariel/Sten - nurse me

"Done!" Mahariel triumphantly holds up her quarry: the longest, meanest looking thorn that she’s ever seen. Creators alone know where Sten picked it up. "Now you’ll be as right as rain."

"There is no right or wrong in rain," he responds. "It simply falls to the earth."

"There’s rightness where it falls, though. Apply." She hands him a poultice and he rubs it on his bleeding arm, nose wrinkling slightly at the pungent smell of herbs. "It washes the dust off everything and makes the forest grow." She inhales deeply, eyes closed. "Best smell in the world."

"Do you need a moment, Warden?" he asks dryly.

"Oh no," she said, dismissing his sarcasm with a wave of her hand. She still didn’t have the heart to tell him that he smelt like the rain to her—of dry dust and plants awakening, the clean smell of water meeting the earth. "I’m perfectly all right."


	3. Aoi and Sakura - enamor me

"Don’t play the fool, Asahina-san. You’ve burned saucepans of water without even trying."

Two hours later the jibe still stung, worse than a cramp and deeper than the Japan Trench. But Aoi told herself she was going to do it, and so she was gonna do it. Simple as that. Easy. Even if she didn’t have any help.

It was just too bad the Home Econs room didn’t have a doughnut cutter. She’d have to improvise—a lot.

Making doughnuts was a lot harder than she’d thought, let alone making heart-shaped ones. The clock cruelly ticked down the minutes to her inevitable doom. At last, she resigned herself to simply frying balls of the dough and scattering sugar on top. Maybe if she had some chocolate too…

"Asahina?" Sakura loomed in the doorway for a while before stepping inside. Oh shit  _oh shit why did she have to be on time **today.**_  “What are you making?”

"Ah…I was thinking we could share these!" she said, gesturing frantically at the plate of warm dough balls, trying not to look too nervous.  _For the love of the gods please let this not be a major screw-up, please don’t ask what those are just let her say someth—_

“ _Sata andagi?_ ”

"—eh?"

“ _Sata andagi._ " Sakura looked genuinely touched. "A traditional confection from Okinawa. You made these yourself?"

"Uh…uh yeah! Sartre underpants  _uh no I mean sata andagi._ That’s what they are! Come—come try them!” She beckoned Sakura to a chair, waited for her to take one and bit into another herself.

The crisp crust gave way to a soft, fluffy interior.  _So good._ Asahina plotted to make more later, because she really couldn’t eat any right now when they made Sakura smile like that, could she? Priorities and all that.

"Are they any good, Sakura-chan?" she asks over her mouthful.

"They are wonderful."


End file.
